


On a Wednesday in a Café

by SimplyShelbs16



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Friendship/Love, Molly In Love, Sherlock in Love, Sweet Cotton Candy Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-16 11:05:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12341412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyShelbs16/pseuds/SimplyShelbs16
Summary: Coffee Shop AU: Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes begins frequenting the little café on the corner of Baker Street where he meets Molly Hooper, a barista and waitress, who enchants him instantly.





	1. Black, Two Sugars

**Author's Note:**

> my playlist for this story: https://8tracks.com/simplyshelbs16xoxo/on-a-wednesday-in-a-cafe

* * *

 

                “Hello, what can I get you?” Molly asked cheerfully. The man at the table hadn’t looked up from his phone, still rapidly typing.

                “Coffee; black, two sugars,” he replied in a tone that conveyed boredom.

                “Um, alright,” she smiled, but the man still didn’t look up at her. He was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen with those onyx curls, cerulean eyes and inviting lips. Oh, and those cheekbones...she fought the urge to trace them with her fingertips.

                When she brought his coffee to him, he finally looked up into her deep brown eyes. His breath caught in his throat. He took in her chestnut tresses tied back in a messy bun, her petite stature and sweet demeanor. She was so beautiful.

                “Um, thank you,” he told her, managing a small smile. Molly held onto that small exchange throughout the day, the smile on his face forever etched into her mind.

* * *

 

                A week later, he came in again, sitting at the same table. Molly smiled from behind the counter and went to fix his drink. She only hoped he was a man of habit.

                “Black, two sugars, just the way you like it,” she told him, setting the cup down. It amused her to no end when he looked at her in confusion, his eyes blinking rapidly.

                “You remembered?” he asked.

                “I, uh, well, yeah,” she managed. He lifted his head in acknowledgement, taking in the new information. “Will that be all?” Just then his mobile rang and he held up his index finger as he answered the call.

                “Graham,” he greeted, “anything good?” A pause, then, “Hmmm, sounds promising. I’ll be right there.” He hung up and looked back at her. “That’s all for me, I’m afraid. I have a crime scene to get to.”

                “Oh, so you’re with Scotland Yard?” she asked.

                “Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p.’ “I’m a consulting detective; I assist the NSY with cases when they’re out of their depth…which is almost always.” Molly giggled at this and he flashed her a grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. She didn’t think it possible for him to look more beautiful, but then that smile took her off guard, just as her melodious laugh made his heart beat faster.

                “Well, good luck,” she called out.

                “I don’t need it, but thank you,” he told her with a wink before leaving.

* * *

 

                He returned four days later, same table and sweet smile meant just for her. She brought him his coffee and the gingernut biscuits he had asked for.

                “I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name,” she told him.

                “Well, that should be remedied, Molly,” he smiled.

                “How did you know my name?” she asked.

                “Nametag,” he pointed out.

                “Oh,” she realized, feeling stupid. “Right, sorry.” He chuckled at that and dear God, it reverberated through her.

                “Sherlock Holmes,” he told her, offering his hand. They shook hands, albeit awkwardly.

                “Nice to officially meet you, Mister Holmes,” she smiled.

                “Sherlock, please,” he replied. “And the pleasure is mine.” Molly felt her cheeks heat up.

                “Molly, stop flirting and help me work this new coffee maker,” Meena complained, her tone a bit playful.

                “Sorry, she’s uh, technologically challenged,” Molly laughed nervously before going over to help Meena.

                Sherlock looked on in amusement. His mind kept screaming at him in a voice that suspiciously sounded like his brother, Mycroft. _Caring is not an advantage; all lives end, all hearts are broken._ Sherlock’s own voice reminded him that, ‘ _sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side.’_ He couldn’t fight the spell that Molly had him under, finding that he didn’t want to push her away like he does with most people. He felt an overwhelming sense of trust in her, though they had spoken on only three separate occasions. She was a mystery that he very much wanted to solve.  


	2. Have a Nice Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is inspired by an old fave song of mine, 'Have a Nice Day' by Mindy McCready.

                Molly set the coffee on the table before he even entered the café. Just as she was fetching the sugar, he had walked in and sat down. Sherlock had been coming in at a consistent time each day for two weeks now.

                “Here you go,” she spoke cheerfully, dropping the two sugars in.

                “Thank you, Molly,” he replied, running his fingers through his damp hair. It had been raining all morning.

                “Are you okay?” she asked with concern.

                “Hm? Oh, yes, just frustrated with the lack of interesting cases,” he replied.

                “Well, I’m on my break right now if you’d like to talk about it,” she offered.

                “I think I may just take you up on that,” Sherlock smiled. “As long as you don’t mind the gory details.”

                “Oh, I don’t,” Molly assured him. “I’ve actually got a degree in pathology. Mike Stamford at Bart’s is waiting for their head pathologist to retire so that he can hire me for that position immediately. I fill in every now and then, part-time.” Sherlock motioned for her to sit in the chair across from him.

                “I’ve never seen you at Bart’s,” he told her. “I know I’d remember you. A lot of my cases have brought me to the morgue to further deduce cause of death.”

                “Well, I usually work the odd hours in an office doing paperwork,” Molly explained. “I haven’t quite gotten to the morgue yet.” Sherlock nodded in understanding. “So, I take it you’re quite observant if they have you help with autopsies.”

                “Oh, very observant,” he beamed with pride.

                “Well then, what have you deduced about me?” she asked, challenging him with her eyes.

                “You own a cat judging by the hair on your pant legs,” he began. “You’re thirty years old and recently graduated medical school within the past year. And, forgive me if I’ve gone too far, you haven’t had a serious relationship since uni, say about eight years ago.”

                “Wow, I’m quite impressed,” Molly smiled. “Seven years, but close.”

                “There’s always one thing,” he chuckled.

                “Anything else?” she inquired.

                “To be honest, you’re quite difficult to deduce; you are a tantalizing mystery that I feel compelled to solve,” Sherlock’s voice lowered to a flirty tone, completely taking her off guard.

                “I shall take that as a compliment,” she replied, getting up from the table. “May I make a deduction of my own?”

                “Go on,” he encouraged.

                “You’re a very lonely man, aren’t you?” she asked gently with reverence.

                “I suppose I am,” he admitted.

                “Well, you’ll always have me,” Molly told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Have a nice day.” She gave him no time to reply, returning to her station behind the counter. That hadn’t been quite what she meant to say to him, but she did mean the words she ended up speaking. What she wanted to say was that she could easily love a man such as him; that she was more woman than she could show him in this old café. She wished he knew how quickly her feelings had deepened for him. Did he even feel the same? Perhaps.

                Sherlock was surprised to learn she was a pathologist. He couldn’t wait for the current head pathologist to retire, as he was quite incompetent and often kicked him out of the morgue and the lab. He would put in a word with Stamford to have Molly placed as the new head pathologist immediately following the retirement of the current one. The more he learned about her, the more intrigued he became. She could see right through him, and that scared him more than anything, but he knew he could love a woman like her. Did she feel the same about him as he does for her? Perhaps, but Sherlock didn’t find himself to be worthy of such a woman.

                Molly looked up when he called her name and waved with a smile. Upon giving her another wink, he exited the café. Her heart fluttered. One day, Molly knew, she would be leaving this café by his side.

                “You are so smitten with him,” Meena teased.

                “I’m falling in love with him,” Molly admitted.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have already read chapter 1, I added an image of a poster I made for this fic if you'd like to go back and check it out! :)


	3. I Could've Been Your Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is inspired by the song I Could’ve Been Your Girl by She & Him.

                Molly had been rushing through the corridors of the hospital, a stack of books in her arms that covered her face. She had been told to deliver them to the lab. Just as she was a few feet away, she ran right into someone, the books falling into a heap on the floor.

                “Oh bugger,” she sighed.

                “Allow me,” a familiar baritone voice sounded.

                “Sherlock,” she smiled. “Fancy seeing you here.”

                “Yes, well, I had an experiment that needs to be studied overnight,” he explained as he picked up the books.

                “Were you the one who requested these?” Molly asked.

                “Hm? Oh yes, my apologies for bumping into you,” he replied. “Thank you.”

                “Oh, it’s no problem,” she told him. “What’s the experiment?”

                “The rate of decomposition using different chemicals,” Sherlock answered.

                “Sounds fascinating!” Molly exclaimed. “Well, I bet you’re just dying to get back to it!” She giggled at her own joke. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ve got more paperwork to fill out.” And with that she walked away.

                Sherlock watched as she turned the corner, wondering if he heard her right. She wasn’t revolted by his macabre experiments, but instead found it fascinating. The more he got to know her, the more of a mystery she became. How is it that she even existed? He felt as if she was made especially for him. Well, if he believed in such things.

                “Heartbeat acceleration, fluttering feeling, an aching pain in my chest cavity,” he muttered to himself. “Definite attraction; she’s obviously quite beautiful and very intelligent.” _Is this what falling in love feels like?_ He wondered.  _No, the work is all that matters. You are married to your work. Sentiment is weakness._

* * *

 

“You’ll be the youngest head pathologist within six months,” Sherlock beamed. “Your family must be proud of you.”

                “I suppose they would be if they were still alive,” Molly replied.

                “Oh, I—I didn’t know,” he frowned. “May I ask how they—?“

                “It’s alright. My mum passed when I was quite young and my dad passed from cancer five years ago,” she explained. “No siblings or aunts and uncles either.”

                “It would seem I am not the only lonely person at this table,” he remarked, taking a sip of his coffee.

                “Then we’ll be lonely together,” Molly laughed. “So, have you always wanted to be a detective?”

                “Not always; I’ll admit I chose it for the thrill of the chase. That, and I’m quite good at it,” he chuckled. “I wanted to be a pirate, actually.”

                “You’re an adventurous one,” she smiled. “I could use some adventure in the midst of such a boring routine.”

                “You sound like me before I took up solving crimes,” he teased.

                “Well, perhaps, we’re not much different after all,” Molly pointed out. Their fingers were somehow laced together, but Sherlock found he did not mind it one bit. Her skin felt so soft in his rough hands. Attempting an experiment of his own, he affectionately squeezed her hand to see her reaction. Molly blushed, a small gasp sounding from the moment he applied the pressure. He was equally surprised when she returned the gesture, his eyes searching hers for the answers he had been looking for. Her eyes were dilated, and if how he felt showed on his face, his own eyes should be dilated as well.

                He wanted to reach out and brush the loose strand of hair behind her ear. His lips longed to be pressed against hers. If he wasn’t careful, he’d snog her senselessly right here at a table in her place of work. Sherlock became entranced by a visual within his mind palace of him exploring her mouth with his tongue. It felt real and he did not want to leave. He imagined the sounds she might make as he pictured them together.

                “Sherlock!” Molly raised her voice. He snapped out of it finally. “Are you okay? You were squeezing my hand a bit too hard. Nearly broke it.”

                “Oh, sorry, I,”–he released her hand—“I have to go.” Molly watched him leave, confused as to what had just happened.   

* * *

 

Sherlock expected to have a good morning. He did not expect, however, his brother taking the seat across from him at the café.

                “Here’s your coffee, Sherlock,” Molly smiled. He only grunted in response. “Um, okay. Hello, what can I get you?” This was directed at Mycroft.

                “Earl grey, if you would,” he replied. Molly nodded and left to make his tea. It was silent between the brothers for a few moments.

                “On a first name basis, brother mine?” Mycroft asked. “You know what I’ve said about getting involved.”

                “I’m not involved,” Sherlock argued. “I just come here for my coffee every day. She is merely entertainment for when I’m bored.” The shattering of a ceramic teacup sounded throughout the café. Sherlock turned his head to see Molly standing there.

                “Well, if that’s all that I am to you,” her voice broke. Molly felt her eyes fill with tears but she’d be damned if she allowed herself to cry in front of him. She turned to Mycroft instead. “So sorry about that; let me get you another cup.” Sherlock’s face fell as she walked away. This did not go unnoticed by his brother.

                “You’re slipping, brother,” Mycroft remarked. “Careful or your façade will disappear altogether.”

                “I don’t give a damn about my façade,” he growled. "Not anymore."

                “Here you go, sir,” Molly spoke sweetly to Mycroft, serving him his tea. She then turned to Sherlock and only spoke three words: “How dare you.” Sherlock felt ashamed of himself for allowing Mycroft to get to him. Now, Molly was hurt because of the cruel words he didn’t mean to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	4. Can't Help Falling in Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> playlist for this chapter: https://8tracks.com/simplyshelbs16xoxo/moonstruck

                The next day, Sherlock returned to the café at his usual time. There was no coffee waiting for him like usual. She was smiling and laughing with other customers, but as soon as her eyes met his, she glared. If looks could kill, he’d probably be dead right now. “Molly,” he spoke softly once he reached the counter.

                “I don’t feel like _entertaining_ today,” she snapped bitterly.

                “I’m so sorry, Molly,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean any of it.”

                “If you didn’t mean it, then why did you say it?” she asked. He noticed her gripping the coffee pot handle so tight, her knuckles turned pale.

                “I was trying to get my brother off my back. He’s always butting into my personal life, so I lied to him,” Sherlock explained. She said nothing, but her grip had loosened up a bit. “I know you’ve no reason to believe me.”

                “You’re right, I don’t,” she told him. He looked so sad. “But for some odd reason, I know you’re telling the truth.”  

                “I am,” he replied. “Please, allow me to make it up to you. Give me a chance to show you how much you mean to me.”

                “I actually mean something to you?” her tone conveyed surprise.

                “Yes, I—of course, you do, Molly,” Sherlock confirmed. His voice was so gentle. “I know I cocked things up, but I’m willing to do anything to have a second chance. Do you know why I come here every day?”

                “For coffee,” she spoke matter-of-factly.

                “I don’t need to come here for coffee every day. My landlady usually fixes me a cuppa,” he explained. “I come back each day because of you, Molly Hooper.”

                “Me? I’m no one special,” she muttered.

                “That’s not true. You’re special to me,” he admitted. “And I’d like to prove that to you.”

                “And how will you be proving it?” Molly asked, unable to fight the small smile on her face.

                “Spend a night out with me tonight,” he suggested.

                “It’s a date,” she smiled. “Want your coffee to go?” Molly handed him a to-go cup.

                “Yes, thank you. I promise I won’t let you down,” Sherlock told her, handing her his payment for the beverage. Before she could reply, he had pressed his lips to her cheek tenderly. “Until tonight.”

* * *

 

                Molly was quite ready for her date with Sherlock. She had texted him her address after getting off of her shift. She wore a dark red cross back, raglan sleeve dress patterned with black skulls that went to her knees. Her hair was brushed back into a braid that went down her back with a few loose tendrils framing her face. After slipping on her flats, there was a knock at the door.

                “Wow,” was all Sherlock could manage to utter when she opened the door. She couldn’t help but softly laugh at his reaction. “Skulls…nice touch.”

                “I thought you’d appreciate it,” Molly admitted. “Ready?”

                “Indeed,” he smiled, leading her out into the street. “I hope you don’t mind walking; we aren’t going far.”

                “I don’t mind,” she told him. They had reached the café rather quickly which was now closed and she wondered why they were here.

                “The day we first met is still quite vivid in my mind,” Sherlock told her. “I remember how you wore your hair, our short exchange and thinking of how beautiful you are.” He laced his fingers with hers. “I wouldn’t have come back here if it weren’t for you. I don’t usually frequent cafés.”

                “I—really?” she asked, squeezing his hand gently.

                “Of course,” he smiled. “I tried to deny how I was feeling on several occasions, but you’ve made a lasting impression in my mind…and my heart, if we’re being honest.”

                Molly was still processing his words when he led her away from the café. It was a cool autumn night, the breeze sending chills down her spine. Sherlock stopped walking in order to shed his Belstaff and settle it over her shoulders. They laughed together at how much smaller she looked in it, and Sherlock decided that he loved seeing her wear it.

                “Fancy some chips?” he asked, nodding towards Speedy’s diner.

                “Sure,” Molly replied. They got their food in takeaway boxes since Sherlock planned to show her how he saw London. An interesting sort of date for sure, but she was quite excited for it. They had run into Sherlock’s landlady, Mrs. Hudson, and Molly learned he lived in 221B right next door. The two of them walked in silence for a bit as they ate their chips.

                “I feel like a tourist,” Molly laughed.

                “Nothing wrong with that,” Sherlock told her. “That means you’re appreciating the city more than usual.”

                “Is that how you always see it?” she asked.

                “Mm, mostly, yes,” he answered. “There are days I see the beauty in it and other times the potential for constant crime. For example, see that alley there? I solved a homicide that happened there.” Molly gave him a look he couldn’t quite read. “Probably not the best thing to talk about on an outing.”

                “No, it’s fine,” she assured him. “I’m quite interested in your work. I assume we will be working together eventually.”

                “True, we will be. I look forward to it, Doctor Hooper,” he smirked. She didn’t know why, but the way he said her title made her blush. They had made it to the London eye and sat upon the bench where they could overlook it. Everything was all lit up, illuminating the city. Sherlock couldn’t help but find it beautiful how Molly looked in the lighting. “May I?” His arm found its way around her waist. She nodded and allowed him to hold her closer to him.

She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head and she turned to look at him. He felt as if her eyes were searching his, but for what he didn’t know. It did not go unnoticed by him how her eyes had darted to his lips briefly. This was territory he wasn’t familiar with and he didn’t want to disappoint her. If he spoke, it might break the moment they were having or about to have. As he continuously overthought every little thing, Molly took him off guard by pressing her lips to his and God, he wanted nothing more than to consume her.

It was Molly’s turn to be surprised when he slid his tongue between her lips, one arm around her waist and another caressing her cheek. Though they had only known one another for a few months, neither of them could deny it any longer…this was love, pure and simple. Molly slid her fingers into his hair and Sherlock definitely seemed to enjoy that, as he deepened the kiss, a small hum coming from his mouth. They broke away for air, leaning their foreheads together.

“I don’t usually do that on the first date,” Molly breathed out, laughing slightly.

“Well, I’m glad you decided to with me,” he chuckled. “Molly, I am so very sorry for my past indiscretions. I never intended to hurt you.”

“You’re forgiven,” she smiled, nuzzling her nose against his.

“Have you ever been?” he asked, gesturing to the London eye.

“Can’t say I have,” she answered.

“Well, come on then,” Sherlock grinned, offering Molly his hand. This man was just one surprise after another and he thought the same about her. He had gotten them a private capsule and he reveled in the way her eyes lit up at the view as they climbed higher. She felt his arms wrap around her from behind and he settled his head on her shoulder. “You are so beautiful.” He whispered this in her ear, resulting in the quickening of her heartbeat. Molly felt she may actually cry joyous tears, as she felt her eyes fill up. He kissed her cheek softly and she became acutely aware that perhaps he was not even paying attention to the view, but rather he was watching her reactions. Molly found she didn’t mind it one bit.

As they began to move closer to the ground once again, Molly turned in his arms and wrapped hers around his neck before pulling him down for a thorough snogging. She wanted nothing more than for him to know how much she loved him. They both now understood what it meant to have a ‘whirlwind romance.’ It had all happened so quickly, it seemed, but within all those moments conversing in the café, ever since the first day they met, they had been falling for one another.

* * *

 

“I had a lovely time, Sherlock,” Molly smiled from where they stood outside her door. “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure, Molly,” he told her. “Thank you for giving me a second chance.” With a kiss to her cheek, they parted ways, but they both knew this was the beginning of something worthwhile and wonderful.

* * *

                         

Molly's Dress is based off of this top that I own

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me 3 days to figure out how to write this haha! Though I did take my birthday off yesterday lol.


	5. Start of Something New

                “Should I be concerned about how much caffeine you’re taking in?” Molly asked with a giggle.

                “Absolutely not,” he replied. “Besides, how else would I see you in the mornings?”

                “As sweet as that is, I hate to tell you that I can’t sit with you on my break,” she told him. “I’ve got several errands to run and little time to do it in.”

                “At least answer me this,” Sherlock insisted. “Will you be available on Friday? I’d like to take you out to dinner.”

                “I’d love that,” she replied, beaming with joy. “Oh, I must get going though.” Molly pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek and hailed a taxi whilst Sherlock finished his coffee.

* * *

 

                Molly had to open up the café the next morning and upon setting foot within the building, her eyes widened as she saw the dead body. She was immediately sent into panic mode, wondering if the murderer was still in the building. After sending off a couple of texts to Sherlock, he had arrived with DI Lestrade and a Doctor John Watson.

                She was used to seeing cadavers of course, as she was a pathologist in training, but this shook her up. A murder taking place where she should feel safe; why, it was enough to make her tremble.

                “It’ll be alright, darling,” Sherlock promised her, settling his coat over her as if it were a shock blanket.

                “What in blazes is going on here!?” the owner asked. Molly could faintly hear DI Lestrade explain the situation to her boss. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears. She looked on as Sherlock and Dr. Watson examined the body for any evidence. Getting a chance to see the way he worked was a welcome sight, despite the shock she received when she stumbled upon this poor man’s body.

                “We’re done here,” Sherlock announced. “Take this body to the morgue.” He turned to her, his face softening. “Allow me to take you home.”

                She and Sherlock sat in the backseat of the cab. His arm was around her protectively and he held her close, gently rocking her. Though the shock had already worn off, Molly wasn’t going to refuse his affection. They entered her flat together and Sherlock checked each room to put her at ease.

                “Oh, uh, here,” she stammered, attempting to slide the coat off.

                “No,” he said firmly. “Keep it for now. I’ve got lots of coats.”

                “Are you sure?” she asked.

                “Very,” he replied. “I must get going, but please don’t hesitate to text me if you need me, alright?” Molly nodded, and with a kiss to her forehead, Sherlock left.

* * *

 

                “It was the owner,” Sherlock spoke suddenly, causing Molly to jump. She was doing paperwork in her office.

                “Sherlock! You scared me half to death…wait, what?”

                “The owner of the café is the murderer,” he explained. “Business deal gone horribly awry; quite a boring ending. He obviously wanted to pin it on an employee.”

                “So, what’s going to happen to my job there?” she asked.

                “I honestly don’t know,” he admitted. “Either a family member will take over or everyone will have to find a new job, I suppose. In your case, it would be to work here full time.”

                “That wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” Molly remarked.

                “No, it wouldn’t be,” he grinned.

                “You’re just trying to find a way to get Doctor Carter to retire early,” she laughed.

                “Who, me? Never,” Sherlock said sarcastically.

                “You’re terrible,” she giggled, playfully pushing his shoulder.

                “I suppose, but you like me anyway,” he flirted, leaning close to her.

                “You’re right, I do,” she replied, pressing her lips to his. Molly thought about correcting him—she more than just liked him—but she wasn’t sure if he felt as strongly.

* * *

 

                They were walking the streets of London once more, discussing various experiments they were working on together along with the current case he was in the middle of. They had eaten dinner at Angelo’s earlier and had decided to enjoy the cool autumn night.

This time around, Molly wore her favourite pair of jeans and an oversized jumper the colour of red wine. She left her hair down, cascading in loose waves from her braid the night before. Sherlock loved it when she wore her hair down. He couldn’t quite keep his fingers from brushing through the thick strands, but Molly most definitely didn’t mind.

The streetlights cast an enchanting glow over them. There was music drifting out from an open window in a residential building nearby. Without warning, Sherlock had taken her hand and pulled her close. They danced beneath the streetlights without a care in the world. He twirled her around and brought her back in for a quick kiss. They were both surprised at how light on their feet the other was. He dipped her, pressing his lips to her neck and met her eyes, sparkling in the night.

“I love you,” he spoke softly, lifting her back to a standing position. Molly wrapped her arms around his neck and snogged him. It was tender and passionate all at the same time.

“I love you too,” she said breathlessly, happy to know he felt the same. “And I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” he asked.

“Mhmm. Mike has hired me on full time at the hospital and it’ll only be a couple more months before I’m in charge of the pathology department,” she smiled.

“That’s wonderful news,” Sherlock told her. “I’m so proud of you.”

* * *

 

                He walked her to her flat, but this time, she invited him in. Somehow, she convinced him to watch Doctor Who and she eventually fell asleep against his shoulder. Sherlock scooped her up and carried her to her bedroom. He tucked her in and kissed her forehead before turning to leave.

                “Sherlock?” she called out sleepily.

                “Hm?”

                “Will you stay with me?” she asked. He nodded, slipping off his shoes and sliding in next to her beneath the duvet. She felt him wrap his arms around her, holding her close. They both knew this was only the beginning of a long, beautiful, and possibly difficult, relationship but they wouldn’t have it any other way.    


End file.
